


Nic Cage Looks Great (but you look 8etter ::::)) aka Sweaty Rugged Good-Looking Human Men

by Oshii



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Con Air, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, JohnxVriska, Troll/Human Romance, VriskaxJohn, broken leg, vriska eats toast and it's CRUMBLY!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-11
Updated: 2012-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-20 20:38:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oshii/pseuds/Oshii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JohnVriska h/c for camianriseup on tumblr. Vriska's laid up at John's house with a broken leg. She broke it FLARPing. John waits on her hand and foot, and Vriska shows her gratitude the only way Vriska knows how - aggressively ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nic Cage Looks Great (but you look 8etter ::::)) aka Sweaty Rugged Good-Looking Human Men

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caimanriseup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caimanriseup/gifts).



 

“ _Joooooooohn_ ,” came the whine that was now exceedingly familiar to John Egbert’s ears. “ _Joooooooohn_ , where are you?”

Vriska’s wail echoed down the hallway, sound waves undulating in high-frequency lengths that assaulted John’s eardrums and made him flinch involuntarily, almost dropping the tray he’d just grabbed off the counter. “Shit,” he hissed, fumbling to right the tray before milk and juice spilled all over the kitchen floor. Dad would not be happy if he came home from work to find breakfast mess all over the floor.

“ _JOOOOOOOOHN!!!!!!!!_ ”

Hands clenching reflexively, he righted himself and hurried off down the hall to his bedroom. Vriska Serket lay in his bed, supported by a literal throne of pillows (John only owned two pillows; he’d had to alchemize sixteen more to please his woman. Luckily pillows didn’t use up a lot of grist.), her broken encasted leg propped up on a stack of the “fluffy sleep loaves” (as she’d dubbed them). Her bright orange godtier outfit clashed with John’s cobalt blue bedding. She looked up at the sound of his approach, bored expression transmuting into a grin of pure delight, and she jammed her thumb onto the “pause” button on his remote, effectively freezing Nic Cage’s face onto his TV screen. “John! What the hell took you so long?”

John juggled the tray onto his bedside table, offering the troll a sheepish grin. “Sorry, Vriska. The toaster’s acting kinda funny so it took a little longer to get the toast the way you like it.”

Vriska pursed her lips, picked a piece of nearly-charcoaled toast off the tray and took a savage bite, fangs scissoring through the burnt bread. “Hmmmmmmmm. Ish good John.” Crumbs sprayed as she spoke, nodding approvingly and continuing to shove her face with a fuck-blueblood-manners attitude.

John made a face, but decided not to comment, recalling exactly how well his last attempt to teach Vriska some table manners had went. Instead he climbed into bed next to her, careful not to jostle her injured leg. “Really, Vris? _Con Air_ again?”

“Shut _uuuuuuuup_ John!” She wailed, throwing her crust at John’s face. His sheets were gonna be filled with crumbs. “It’s _your_ fault for introducing me to this stupid movie in the first place!”

John wiped crumbs off his face and batted her cheek, smirking at her affronted little shriek. “Oh whatever, like I knew you troll ladies were so turned on by the great Nic Cage!”

Vriska wrestled John as well as she could with one broken leg, squealing in the throes of his death tickles and poking his ribs with her claws until he relented enough for her to worm her torso over his lap and grab the glass of juice off the breakfast tray on the nightstand. “Well. How was _I_ supposed to know just how sweaty and rugged and _good-looking_ your human men were?”

“Not all human men look like that, you know,” John countered, glancing over. Vriska slurped her orange juice, eyeing him devilishly over the rim of the glass. She lowered the glass, smacked her glistening lips, and smiled seductively (as one could with toast crumbs and orange juice coating their mouth).

“You’re right, John,” she decided, and abruptly snatched a fistful of John’s hair (making him elicit a very un-manly yelp of surprise and mild pain), pulling his head close enough so their foreheads touched. “Some look even better.” And she brought their lips together, not even noticing that _Con Air_ had maxed out its pause time and continued playing on its own, that Nic Cage himself was witness to her sloppy makeout session with the adorable, selfless, goofy, _stuuuuuuuupid_ human boy in bed next to her.

 

**Author's Note:**

> uuuugghh sorry this ficlet was kind of rushed, but it was a gift fic for a dear friend so I like to think it's the thought that counts :) She seemed to enjoy it, so that makes me feel happy inside. John/Vriska's not reeally one of my top ships, but hey, I'll indulge her some gratuitous sloppy makeout fic. It's not so much h/c as it is humor, though. But that's okay. Humor's good too.


End file.
